


Untitled

by skund



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Angst, M/M, mindcontrol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-01
Updated: 2010-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:57:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skund/pseuds/skund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ted is gone and Booster takes whatever he can get, even if he doesn't have a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

Booster hears the footsteps before the door even squeaks open, and he knows who it is. He lies still, in the darkness, knowing the sound approaching like he knows the shape of his own hand. The footsteps are wrong, not welcome here, not the ones he used to anticipate every night. But then the next moment they change, and suddenly they’re the steps he’s heard a thousand times, a gait his own stride matched without thought, knew without doubt. And they shouldn’t be here. Couldn’t. Because Ted was dead.

It had taken him a while to work out how this kept happening. Night time visits from a man who no longer existed. He’d almost suspected J’onn, except the Martian would never take another man’s face and do something like this. Oh, and J’onn is dead too.

Then he’d woken one morning, sore and aching from his nocturnal visitor, to see three perfect drops of blood on his pillow. And then he’d known. Max always had thought he was stupid.

The bed dips behind him and brings Booster back to the moment. He feels a slight scratching sensation at the back of his mind, but that could all be in his head. A weight leans over him in the dark and then there’s a hand resting on his bare shoulder - the calluses are all wrong. He always forgets to project the shape of Ted’s hands. Maybe he thinks Booster can’t tell the difference. Maybe Max never knew Ted’s hands, not the way Booster knew them. The hand pushes down and Booster resists for half a second, because he should fight this. He should scream and kick and punch, because this isn’t right. But then the itch in his brain intensifies and he can smell ~~Ma~~Ted and hear Ted’s breathing and lets the sensations sweep his disbelief away. Besides, this is all he has now.

~~M~~Ted pushes him down onto lie on his stomach, head turned to the side, and drops two butterfly kisses on either side of the knob at the base of Booster’s neck. He watches the shadow above him ~~(wrong shape, wrong shapewrong)~~ out of the corner of his eye.

“Michael,” Ted breathes into Booster’s skin.

“Ted,” Booster murmurs back. The shape of the name feels wrong, but he can’t work out why.

“I missed you,” and it comes out almost as a sob.

“I’m right here, buddy.”

Booster hears him smile with a sigh.

Wetness falls into Booster’s back, warm and thick and copper-rich.

“Are you crying, Ted?” Booster tries to roll over and face his lover, but Ted pushes him back down.

“No, no. Everything’s just fine.”

Ted’s hands wander down Booster’s back, smoother than Booster remembers. When they reach the waistband of his boxers and Ted pulls them down sharply. Fingers pry, trace the shape of Booster’s curves. Booster moans and tries to part his legs but is still bound by his underwear.

“Kinda skipping a few bases there, aren’t you?” Booster grins, but it feels strained for some reason.

“It’s alright. I’ll look after you,” Ted whispers, hands still wandering.

Booster hums and forces his body to relax and Ted’s fingers work deeper, tracing the outline of his hole. This is his best bud Ted, after all. He’d never hurt his Booster.


End file.
